


A Cornflower Amongst Roses

by lizzy112092



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, One-shot (for now), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzy112092/pseuds/lizzy112092
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the duel in front of the manor, Demelza struggles with her bubbling feelings for Ross -- ones that she wishes she could deny. A midnight stroll with Garrick turns into an unexpected rendezvous...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cornflower Amongst Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the short length. I've written a million pieces of fanfiction for different universes, but I've never had the heart to post any. This was a short one-shot I wrote months ago. I intended for it to expand into a massive AU, but I could never find the inspiration to continue. For now, it will remain a one-shot. 
> 
> Any constructive criticism is welcome. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

A Cornflower Amongst Roses

 

The darkness and the quiet would have been suffocating in the little cupboard if she weren’t so used to them. Nothing but the rustle of coarse sheets and her own breathing for company. She could hear Garrick’s keening from his place outside, calling for her. Missing her. There was a time when she would have gone to him in the night, any night that he cried for her. But she’d been worried as of late that sleeping with Garrick made her smell more than usual. She didn’t used to worry about how she smelled. 

But now?

Now a certain dark-haired someone had changed her ways. Not because he’d ordered her to wash and mind her appearance more often—which he had—but because she truly wished she didn’t smell when she was around him. The decision was her own, or so she’d convinced herself. She sought his approval when she knew she shouldn’t. 

Demelza fiercely rubbed her palms against her eyes and groaned. Of all of the men she could’ve developed...a liking for, the Master should have been the last. It begged for trouble, and she couldn’t have it. If something were to happen, she’d be forced back home with her father and her brothers—if they’d even have her. And when she thought of it, a sharp, fearful thrill raced through her. She knew they would. 

It was important that she kept this new development a secret from everyone. Prudie had already repeatedly accused her of “extendin’ ‘er sights above ‘er station,” and this was a massive leap above any other charge she’d made against her. Until she sorted it out and shoved it back into a hole where it could rot, she needed to figure out how she could hide it away. After the gentleman had been shot at the house today, and after Master Poldark had asked if she’d like to leave, it had become even harder to conceal her interest. 

She threw off her blankets and placed her feet on the cold, stone floor. In a few practiced movements, she slid her slippers onto her feet, wrapped a shawl around herself, and shuffled to the door. 

She’d do without the candle tonight. Jud, Prudie, and the Master had gone to bed hours ago, and she really didn’t wish to wake anyone in such a state. She felt like a common specter at Nampara, walking around when no one was watching, doing her chores softly and alone, spying on a certain gentleman working in his study. But in her short lifetime, she found that she preferred being ignored to being noticed. At home, she was often on the receiving end of rapt attention, and she had learned that it led to discipline or pain. When she passed unnoticed, she passed unharmed. She preferred it this way. 

Garrick rushed her as soon as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. He pushed up onto his hind legs and rubbed his face across her stomach, seeking pets and caresses. He barked once, affectionately, when his wet nose grazed her hand and she didn’t immediately comply. Demelza laughed and scratched between his ears, moving away from the door. “Quiet, ‘ee scoundrel. Ee’ll wake ‘em, an’ I’ve no excuse for bein’ ‘ere.”

He pushed off and ran circles around her, never straying far. Demelza wrapped the shawl tighter to fight off the chill and walked a ways from the door. She passed through the creaky, wooden gate, shoving roughly against it to open the latch. She left it slightly ajar and resumed her walk, heading along the stone wall and sitting under the tree nearest the manor. She often came here in the night once everyone had gone to sleep. Garrick could run freely in the grass, and she could be alone in the open air with her thoughts. 

“I’ve gone and gotten me self in a scrape, Garrick. I don’t know what t’ do.” Garrick tipped his head at her before plopping in the grass and laying across her lap.

“Lot’a ‘elp ‘ee are, then,” she smiled, rubbing his neck. “Ask a dog for ‘elp, an’ yer like not to get any.”

Her voice drifted alone through the midnight mist. 

Demelza closed her eyes and rested her head against the stone. It had been a long day scrubbing the floors, and her shoulders and knees were tight and aching. The excitement of watching the draw and tending to wounds earlier had only made it worse. She counted the throb of her heartbeat beneath one kneecap as she ran her hand through Garrick’s grubby fur. She could feel the dampness from the grass seeping into her skirts and knew she’d have to step out of them to let them dry once she returned to bed… 

It was some time later that Garrick bounded up from the spot on her lap and whipped around, ears and tail taut in alertness. Demelza startled awake and followed his line of sight, and in the light from the moon, she saw a figure step through the open gate, candle held high. His wild curls were unmistakable. In one mad instant, she imagined running away from him down the wall in the hopes that he wouldn’t spot her. She even gathered her skirts about her with a thought to sprinting. But he turned his head at the rustle of her movement and spotted her and Garrick in the grass. 

“Demelza? What are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I…” She started, snatching her shawl from where it had fallen to the grass and standing abruptly. “I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t sleep. An’ Garrick…well, ‘ee was lonely, sir. Whinin’ again.”

“Yes. He does that,” Master Poldark returned, walking through the gate and nearer to her, stopping just a few strides away. 

“I’m sorry, sir, really. I’d thought ee’d be asleep, an’ I didn’t think ee’d be needing me. An’ Garrick…” 

“Was whining. I know, Demelza. I hear him, too, in the night.” He lowered the candle and thrust it further toward her. “It looks as though you’ve fallen asleep out here. I know Jud and Prudie have been working you too hard, even though you deny it…”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ve said, sir. They ain’t. I can handle anything that be needing handling an’…”

“Demelza, please. Let me finish,” he sighed, closing his eyes. She clamped her mouth shut and looked down to his boots. It was easier to face the mud on his shoes than the shadows in his eyes. 

“I know that they are. They’d do the same to me if I didn’t scold them for it all of the time. And because you’re younger and newer, I’ve no doubt that they’re doing it to you. Food’s been scarce, but I know that I’ve been feeding you well enough to have put some meat on your bones, and you’re still…”

He reached out and circled her wrist with one of his palms. “You’re still so thin. So fragile.”

Demelza’s breath caught, and she tried even harder to keep from looking up into his face. Seconds passed with only the sound of their breathing and Garrick’s distracted sniffing around their feet. 

“I know they’ve been working you too hard. God knows Prudie’s not been losing any heft around her middle recently.”

Demelza laughed, then. Powerfully. The tension of the moment broke, and she covered her mouth with her free hand, leaning forward into her merriment. Over the sound of her muffled laughter, she could hear a surprised chuckle from him, as well. 

When it finally died down, she looked up. An amused half-smile graced his face, one of the ones that made his eyes sparkle and broke his usual, miserable gloom. She was reminded of the mischievous, roguish boy that Prudie often carried on about when Master Poldark wasn’t within earshot. She wondered if the war had completely killed him off. But when he gave one of those smiles, she thought she felt him warming somewhere beneath the surface. 

She needed to end the silence between them.

“Were ‘ee asleep, then? I’m sorry if we woke ‘ee, sir. I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t wake me, Demelza. I was already awake in my study. I’ve been finding it hard to sleep lately.”

She wanted to nod in agreement—it was hard for her to sleep, too—but instead she simply stared back. 

“It’s easier to sleep if I read for a while before bed.” 

Demelza shuffled from one foot to the other, the warmth from the palm of his hand making her more and more uncomfortable. Well, uncomfortable probably wasn’t the word she was looking for. There was a rigid tickling just below her ribcage, the same one that had plagued her as she stole glances of Master Poldark’s bath over the cliff. The same one she’d been feeling often around him recently…and that worried her all the more. 

“I’m sorry if we disturb’d yer reading, then.”

“You didn’t disturb my reading. I went into the kitchen and I noticed you weren’t in your bed. I knew you’d probably come out to see Garrick, but when you weren’t near the door, I grew worried.”

“Worried? D’ee think I’d left?” She asked, charmed by his unnecessary concern. 

“I feared you might have,” he breathed, voice hardly above a whisper.

In the darkness, the words seemed both heavier—tangible—and more dreamlike at the same time. They struck fiercer, warming her cheeks, but she still felt she could deny them once the daylight came, like some wistful, nighttime fancy. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

“I told ‘ee, sir. I belong ‘ere,” she attempted a smile. “I like it ‘ere…with ‘ee.”

Her eyes widened when she realized her words. “An’…an’ with Jud and Prudie, a’ course.”

He smiled, then. A real smile. Big and bright and true. 

“Of course. Mustn’t forget them. They’re an undeniable joy.” His mouth ticked up on the side, teasing. The mischievous boy glittered softly behind his eyes in the candlelight. 

Demelza needed an escape. All alone with Master Poldark outside the house in the middle of the night—his warm hand on her wrist and an encouraging smile gracing his face. It would be a hard thing for many a strong woman to deny, and she wasn’t quite sure she’d yet call herself a woman. 

“I think it’s time I head back inside, sir, if ‘tis all the same to ‘ee. I’m…I’m tired.”

She was decidedly not tired anymore.

The smirk slowly drained from his lips, and his hand fell from hers. “Of course, Demelza. I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go on, then.”

As she waded through the grass and the open gate, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d just closed a different one behind her.


End file.
